


Choral tradition

by LenaLawlipop



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Inspired by Art, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLawlipop/pseuds/LenaLawlipop
Summary: “I know you don’t sing. I once caught you humming, remember? You ditched me that same afternoon and I didn’t see you for months.”“Sorry,” he winced. It wasn’t the first time he said it, but it was so new that Jaskier still had to smile, basking in the feeling for a moment. “I suppose Icancarry a tune, I just… don’t. Don’t sing.”“I know,” Jaskier reassured him.“No,” Geralt insisted. Jaskier looked over again, and frowned when he saw Geralt rub his face in frustration. “You don’t get it. I can’t sing, I’m notallowed, Jaskier.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 223
Collections: GRB2020 Team Works





	Choral tradition

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my entries for the Geraskier Reverse Bang 2020! It was so much fun to put it together, the idea came to me while I was already writing, and it surprised me as much as I'm hoping it will surprise you guys!!  
> This was all inspired by [astraist](https://astraist.tumblr.com/)'s beautiful artwork, which you can see below.  
> A huge thanks to [Chantress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress) for helping to beta read this story!! <3  
> If you'd like to share this fic, you will find a tumblr post for it [here](https://lenalawlipop.tumblr.com/post/643924499281199104/choral-tradition-lenalawlipop-the-witcher-tv) and a tweet [here](https://twitter.com/LenaLawlipop/status/1364234045727666178). Thanks!

It was a testament to how few Witchers still roamed the Continent, that Jaskier had never met any others aside from Geralt.

He'd heard of them, of course. Geralt didn't talk much about them, but he'd mentioned his family before. Vesemir, the father-like figure of the school of the Wolf. Eskel, Geralt's brother, apparently better with magic. Lambert, his other brother, apparently the youngest of them all.

He never talked of any others, _if_ there were any. Jaskier was beginning to suspect there weren't, but that was neither here nor there. The point was that meeting two of them at the same time while on an otherwise completely normal quest, was unprecedented. Geralt had actually smiled at the sight!

Geralt smiled a lot more nowadays, Jaskier had noticed when they'd reunited after their argument during the dragon quest. He'd started with small, shy smiles, whenever Jaskier said something particularly funny, and he'd slowly expanded his repertoire of things he said to the bard. That was how Jaskier had come to learn about his family, actually.

And now, a few years after, here they were, in the flesh.

They seemed just as surprised to meet him as Jaskier was to meet them. They didn’t seem to know how to talk to him at first, but when they sat down to actually share a meal, Jaskier realized they were just testing the waters. Eskel was a good conversationalist, and Lambert, although crass and sometimes outright rude, didn’t seem to have any trouble using words, unlike their brother. Geralt stayed quiet, but it wasn’t hard to notice he was at ease. He smiled often, laughed even. He bantered back and forth with them, with the wit of someone who has had to endure their siblings for over a human lifetime.

Jaskier performed that evening. He’d already agreed with the innkeeper that he would perform for his and Geralt’s food, and while he hadn’t managed to convince him to include the two extra Witchers, he made enough coin in tips to pay for their meals as well. Geralt groaned when he saw him counting orens, but he also offered Jaskier one of the newer smiles, all soft around the edges, pleased. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d even say it was sweet.

If he was being honest, after how long it had taken them to get there, Jaskier was more than happy to spend his hard earned coin on Geralt’s family if it won him a smile like that. He’d taken a long time to get used to his smiles and, now that they didn’t startle him every time, he felt like a junkie, always going above and beyond for one of the not-so-rare-anymore signs of affection from the Witcher. He wasn’t sure he’d ever have enough, or worse, if much like most drugs, it would be his undoing someday.

###

The next morning offered a clear sky, and it turned out that Witcher contracts were extremely easy if there were three of them to take care of things, instead of just one. Jaskier was not only allowed, but encouraged to come along for it. It was a simple task, after all, and there would be three sets of eyes to keep on him, just in case. He had no particular interest in drowners at this point in their travels, and Geralt seemed to know this, but he didn’t correct Eskel when he offered. So Jaskier went.

The swamp was lovely by daylight. It was a magnificent array of shades of green and brown, all lights and shadows, and the water looked _almost_ clear, though by now Jaskier knew better than to even mention this out loud, not even in passing. Geralt looked at him from the corner of his eye, raised an eyebrow knowingly, but didn’t bring it up. He was more than used to Jaskier waxing poetic about landscapes that were infested with monsters.

The drowner nest was hidden, but no more than usual, and the weather was good enough that the usual dark and grimy fights were simple for the human eye to follow. Jaskier wondered if they were putting on a show for him, or if other witchers used their signs more often. Judging by Geralt’s fond teasing, he figured it might be a bit of both.

Jaskier hadn’t expected _not_ to like them; in fact, he’d been sure they’d get along, if his friendship with Geralt was any indication. But he hadn’t realized it would be _easy_. That they would like him back. Include him in conversation, talk to him like they would between them. It had been a long time since Jaskier had been so touched by being talked to, and he could only hope that it didn’t show through too much. He still tried to stay close to Geralt, though. It was something he’d taken to doing years back, to reassure the Witcher that he might not be talking to him, but he wasn’t leaving him aside. It had never resulted in any verbal acknowledgement from him, and this time was no different, but Geralt did step closer, occasionally even holding Jaskier’s arm when he wanted to interrupt his babbling to point something out. It sent a jolt of electricity through him every time, and Jaskier couldn’t help but smile to himself. No one but Geralt would be able to make him feel like a young boy like this, not anymore. He wondered if that would ever fade, or if he might be cursed to still feel this way for years to come, but he didn’t dwell on it. He’d sworn to himself that he’d stop bothering Geralt with his unnecessary feelings after they’d reunited… even if the Witcher himself was making it really hard not to keep falling for him, with his new little smiles, and soft touches.

What rattled Jaskier the most, though, were the compliments. They were few and far between, but by the _gods_ , they set his broken heart on fire.

“Sing some of the good ones at lunch,” Geralt said this time, as they strolled back into town to collect their coin. “You only sang the dirty songs last night, don’t let these two think that’s your entire repertoire or they’ll never take my word that you’re actually a famous bard.”

Jaskier actually stumbled. Geralt raised his eyebrows.

“I’m offended!” Jaskier proclaimed, dramatically placing a hand on his chest, babbling to cover it up. “My entire repertoire is good, what if they were dirty songs? Just you wait, Geralt. I’ll show you I can sing the classics better than anyone.”

Melitele, he needed to get a grip.

###

Lambert was sprawled on a chair, looking relaxed for all intents and purposes. That should have been the first hint. The other would have been that Eskel was frowning at him, but Jaskier was still buzzing with too much energy from a spectacular performance to notice either of them. Geralt gave him a smile, but it was slightly too tight, clipped, and that was what finally clued him in. It killed his buzz, somewhat. He looked between the Witchers.

“It’s not my fault you were bored with the classics,” he muttered, defensively, which earned him a laugh from Lambert, and a slightly more sincere smile from Eskel. Geralt winced.

“That’s not it,” he said in a rush. “You were very good. I haven’t seen you get that many tips from classics before. It’s just…”

“Just?” Jaskier asked, feeling his mouth suddenly dry. _Very good_.

“These two hid my swords while you performed. They said they’d take them upstairs, and now they’re gone.”

“Wh— Seriously? What are you, twelve?!” Jaskier blurted out, incredulous. Lambert didn’t laugh at that, though Eskel grinned, a boyish kind of smile that would have gotten him off the hook, if Jaskier didn’t know how much the swords meant to Geralt. He shook his head, turning away before he did something stupid like smile back. Gods, the man was a menace.

“Easy,” he started, entirely too pleased with Jaskier’s reaction. “We have no use for extra swords. We haven’t developed extra arms with the mutations, and we already have two each. We’ll give them back.”

“So what is this?” Jaskier asked, taking the chance to swipe Eskel’s ale from him. The Witcher made a move to keep it before he realized it was just Jaskier, and then observed him curiously for a second before turning to Lambert. They considered the question while Jaskier drank.

“I guess this is what you would call an intervention,” said Lambert, grinning.

“Fuck you too,” Geralt muttered. Eskel sighed, hiding a grin behind his newly recovered ale.

“Listen. It’s a beautiful spring day. We’ve just finished a contract, which was paid in full. We’ve had a good meal, with excellent music — thank you, Jaskier. I hadn’t heard some of those songs in longer than you’ve been alive,” Eskel added, nodding towards him. It sparked a flicker of pride in him, and Jaskier beamed at him, but he was self-aware enough to recognize that it wasn’t nearly the same as the way Geralt’s words had made him feel.

_Very good._

“What is your point?” Geralt himself interrupted, and Eskel turned to him. Smirked.

“The point is that we all deserve a quiet afternoon, and knowing you, you’ll be dragging Jaskier away with you so you can reach the next town before night falls. And I would very much like to listen to him some more, thank you very much.”

“So you’ve taken away my swords, hid them the gods know where, and now you’re forcing us to stay around for the day?”

“Pretty much,” Eskel agreed. Lambert snickered.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, pretty boy. You heard Eskel. It’s a nice day, go for a walk, I don’t know. You just got your bard back, make up for lost time or whatever.”

“I thought you wanted to hear him some more,” Geralt grumbled, clearly still suspicious.

“We’ve just heard him sing during lunch, he should rest his voice,” Eskel rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Geralt, you’ve known us for decades. Your swords are fine. Don’t make us take Roach hostage as well. I know this is a new concept to you, but try to relax, alright? We’ve just finished off the only monsters around here, it’s not like you’re going to need them.”

“You’re underestimating his ability to get into trouble,” Jaskier piped in, amused. He leaned over, ignoring Geralt’s glare and picking at a piece of cheese. Lambert snorted.

“Then don’t go too far. Let us know if you need a Witcher to take care of a monster for you, Geralt, we wouldn’t want you to be left all alone with a wild Jaskier, or something,” he added, making Eskel choke on his ale.

Geralt groaned, but Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh along.

Ah, siblings…

###

“You know they’re probably just trying to help you be nice to yourself, right? I’ve been trying to do the same for years, except I can’t steal your swords away without you noticing.”

Geralt looked at him from the corner of his eye. He looked a lot less impressive without two swords constantly strapped to his back, Jaskier thought. Especially ever since he’d grown to be almost Geralt’s height, years ago. That had been great for his self esteem, though Geralt had made sure it didn’t go to his head. Being of a height didn’t make Jaskier nearly as strong as Geralt, much less dexterous at all. He still maintained that Geralt would be a terrific bard if he ever decided to take up a lute — he had the most amazing control over his own body that Jaskier had ever seen. He remembered particularly the time he actually said that out loud. Geralt had actually blushed. So much for Witchers not blushing!

“You’re daydreaming,” Geralt said then, startling him. He looked over. “Bored already?”

“How could I ever be bored while I’m with you, dear Witcher?” Jaskier offered; automatic platitudes he’d been saying for years. Geralt laughed at him, quiet, but honestly amused.

“You get bored faster than anyone I’ve ever met. And if you’re quiet, you’re even _more_ bored than usual.”

“Not bored,” Jaskier insisted, only half embarrassed at being known to that extent.

“I hope they’re not…” Geralt hesitated, but then went on. “They can be a bit much, I suppose, especially Lambert, and Eskel thinks he can get away with everything because he’s got a pretty smile, but…”

“As much as I agree on that last part, I wouldn’t think Eskel considers his own smile, much less on those terms,” Jaskier interrupted him. “And anyway, no. No, they’re not too much. Melitele, Geralt, they’re perfectly fine. If nothing else, it’s nice to not have to carry the conversation on my own,” he added, nudging him with an elbow.

“Eskel… wouldn’t,” Geralt frowned. He didn’t address the rest of the sentence, eyes staring into the distance.

“Though he should!” Jaskier insisted. It managed to get Geralt’s attention. “I do very much agree with you. He reminds me a little of you, and you’ve said you used to look very similar! Though I think I’ve seen him smile as much in a day as I’ve seen you in the past year...”

At this, the Witcher tilted his head in a way entirely too similar to Eskel’s, and _smiled_. It was every bit as cheeky, and boyish, and Jaskier could see the similarities despite knowing they weren’t related by blood, and yet…

Melitele help him. Jaskier was fucked.

###

They’d intended to simply walk around the town, peruse the market perhaps, but even before they reached it they knew it would be empty. Summer wasn’t far, and it was far too warm for anyone to be out in the sun working so early in the afternoon.

“Let’s come back later,” Jaskier suggested. “Let’s walk on the edge of the forest to avoid the sun?”

“We can go back to the swamp, if you’d like,” Geralt offered. “The worst thing you can find in there right now are toads, and you’ll scare them all to death with your smelly feet.”

“A joke! Geralt! Did that hurt?” Jaskier exclaimed, and the Witcher rolled his eyes.

“I saw you eyeing the water earlier, bard. You can fool Lambert and Eskel, but you can’t fool me. You would have jumped in, had it not been for the drowners.”

“Or, you know, the fact that I was there on the job,” Jaskier muttered. “I was there to look!”

“At the fight, not the water.”

“So what if I looked at the water? It’ll be up to me to describe the scenery for my audience later on!”

“I don’t think an idyllic spring day makes for good fighting ambiance.”

“Idyllic? _Idyllic_? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Geralt? My Geralt barely has words, you see, much less big words like ‘idyllic’.”

“Fuck off, bard.”

This was more familiar to Jaskier. This had been the way they’d interacted for so long that he was used by now to the way Geralt would talk to him when he wanted to end a conversation, and it didn’t bother him. Geralt’s little smirk as Jaskier took off his boots to walk on the riverbank did bother him a little, but in an entirely different way.

“I don’t see why you’re allowed to have your lute with you, but I can’t have my swords,” Geralt muttered. When Jaskier looked, however, he was folding up his trousers so he could follow him into the shallow water. Jaskier shrugged.

“Where am I going to go with just a lute?”

“You didn’t have that much more on you when we met. People like you, someone would take you in until you made enough coin to buy another bedroll and new clothes.”

“Careful, Geralt, you’re close to admitting my music is good enough to make us a living.”

“Don’t push it,” he laughed.

Gods, but he was laughing. He even turned a bit toward Jaskier, smile still lifting his features and making his eyes all but sparkle. His pupils were wider than usual, adjusted to the shadow the trees provided, and it made Jaskier’s heart flutter, feeling observed in a way he wasn’t used to. He smiled back, strumming a few chords on his lute. A short melody. His fingers itched, but not with a new song. He was too relaxed to come up with something right then, and even if he did, the afternoon was far too warm to be productive.

“You know,” Geralt started, suddenly, a few minutes later. Jaskier looked over, and saw him choosing his steps carefully to reach a rock stable enough to sit on. “There’s this book at Kaer Morhen,” he continued, unaware of Jaskier’s eyes. “It’s filled with songs. Or at least, they seem like songs. Lyrics,” he amended. “I only have vague memories of a few, but I bet Vesemir would be able to sing them for you.”

“Witcher songs?” Jaskier inquired, swallowing the need to fire a thousand questions. Geralt shrugged, finally sitting down and looking at Jaskier tentatively.

“Yes,” he replied simply. “Songs written _by_ Witchers, specifically.”

“Witchers write songs?”

“There used to be so many of us, some would know how to compose. There were never many, but some would have some artistic talents, and so… music. From Witchers, for Witchers… No one has sung them since… well,” he shrugged again. “I just thought you might enjoy them.”

Jaskier stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to answer.

“I’d love to hear them,” he ended up saying, hoping his voice wouldn’t choke too much.

“I-I can’t sing,” Geralt added quickly, but Jaskier was already shaking his head.

“I know you don’t sing. I once caught you humming, remember? You ditched me that same afternoon and I didn’t see you for months.”

“Sorry,” he winced. It wasn’t the first time he said it, but it was so new that Jaskier still had to smile, basking in the feeling for a moment. “I suppose I _can_ carry a tune, I just… don’t. Don’t sing.”

“I know,” Jaskier reassured him.

“No,” Geralt insisted. Jaskier looked over again, and frowned when he saw Geralt rub his face in frustration. “You don’t get it. I can’t sing, I’m not _allowed_ , Jaskier.”

“What?”

“I… I don’t think you know this, I haven’t told you before,” he sighed. “Some Witchers can’t sing. Eskel and I… we’re not allowed to. Lambert could, Vesemir could. But… bad things happen when certain Witchers sing. Especially Witcher songs.”

“What, why?!”

Jaskier jumped over a few rocks, nearly falling into the water as he hurried to get closer. He laughed when he felt Geralt’s hands reaching for him, grabbing his waist to stabilize him. He braced his fall on Geralt’s shoulders, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, and stared at his golden eyes as he caught his breath. He was more than used to being around Geralt, and he wasn’t a stranger to touching him either, but his momentum had thrown them closer than usual and Jaskier was close enough that he could see every minute detail of his face. Surprise was clear as day in his features, and he’d opened his lips to caution him against running, a little too late. Geralt’s pupils were nearly round with adrenaline, but as Jaskier settled by his side, they went back to their normal state.

“I want to know _everything_ ,” Jaskier enthused, and Geralt sighed.

“Witcher songs are written in Elder,” he started, and Jaskier bit his tongue before he could interrupt. He’d been trying to listen more to Geralt lately, knowing full well that it always took him some time to find his words. “Witchers are Witchers. Whether they can write music or not, they’re still Witchers, do you understand?”

“I suppose? I can write music and I remain human?”

“Yes,” Geralt smiled a little, but shook his head. “But that’s not… Witchers are made to kill things, Jaskier. And so the music they wrote sometimes had that purpose as well. Some Witchers sang in runes, some in Elder, some in other languages. And so… some Witchers hunted in groups, a, a…”

“A choir?” Jaskier offered, and Geralt scoffed.

“A grotesque comparison. Witcher music wasn’t for pleasure, Jaskier. Or… not always,” he amended after a moment.

"Ok, murder choirs. So? Why can Lambert and Vesemir sing?”

“Not every Witcher is equally skilled at magic. Eskel is the best of us, and he is forbidden to sing. I… I can hum without consequences, but I can’t sing, much less in Elder.”

“Oh, gods…” Jaskier gasped. “Is that why…?”

“Why I didn’t want to travel with you in the beginning?” Geralt finished, raising his eyebrows teasingly. “Don’t flatter yourself, bard. Your songs were not that good back then.”

“Excuse you, I wrote you a song so catchy people still sing it today!”

“Yeah, yeah… but no, that wasn’t it. That was just… well, just another reason. I just wasn’t ready to care for a human.”

“I’m not a pet!”

“I’m sure you’d make a good one, but again, not what I meant,” Geralt sighed, stretching lazily and laying back on the rock. Jaskier spluttered, but didn’t have it in him to be offended.

They lapsed into silence, and eventually, Jaskier laid down next to Geralt, moving his toes in the water, grateful for the cold contrast to the weather. Geralt didn’t seem inclined to share anything else, but he must have brought it up for a reason, right? Jaskier splashed him with some water, but that didn’t get a reaction. He thought about poking him, but then decided against it — Geralt was not above pushing him into the water, lute and all.

The silence was nice, here. The water made lovely sounds, accompanied by the birds and other animals currently awake in the swamp, a melody all of its own that was quieter than usual because of the heat. Every living being was trying to keep away from the scorching sun. A beam of sunlight was hitting Jaskier’s arm, but he had no way of getting away from it unless he moved to lay on top of Geralt, which… with how warm it was, it didn’t sound as enticing as it otherwise would have. He sat up, squinting at the foliage above them and then at Geralt. If he wasn’t going to be able to doze off, neither should the Witcher.

“So…” he started. Geralt sighed.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” he muttered, and Jaskier grinned.

“On the contrary, this is the best idea you’ve had in years,” he mused. “So, you can hum, right?”

“It… should be fine.”

“So you could show me the tune of a song, and then write down the lyrics? Nothing will happen if _I_ sing it, and I’m sure you want to hear those songs again, you wouldn’t have told me about them otherwise.”

Geralt didn’t reply for a long time, but Jaskier wasn’t sure what else he could add to convince him. He waited, breath shallow in anticipation.

“It’s not so much the songs…” Geralt said eventually, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “I’ve told you because you were saying you wouldn’t get too far with just your lute. Well… If I knew how to play, _I_ ’d get very far indeed. If I was allowed.”

“In other words, you just miss your swords,” Jaskier surmised, trying to conceal a giggle.

He failed, of course. He failed, tipping into cackling soon enough, and turning to his side to burrow his face in Geralt’s arm. The Witcher sighed, but didn’t deny it and, perhaps more importantly, didn’t shove him off immediately either.

“Are you going to show me or not?” Jaskier needled after a moment.

“This is a horrible idea,” Geralt groaned again, placing a hand on Jaskier’s hair and ruffling it gently. “I told you, these songs have specific purposes. Using them for no reason isn’t allowed.”

“Isn’t allowed, like the way you aren’t allowed to use Igni to heat water for your bath? Because let me tell you, Witcher, that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“The same way. It can be inoffensive when used correctly, but the songs have always needed more than one magic source to be fully controlled. It’s nearly unheard of that a lone Witcher can use them properly.”

“Not even if they could save your life?”

“Jaskier,” he sighed again. “Magic is… mercurial.”

“Now you’re definitely not my Geralt,” Jaskier muttered, earning a snort. “First idyllic, now mercurial… what’s next?”

“Magic is mercurial, and so is the soul of a poet,” Geralt interrupted, amusedly poking fun at him, but starting to sound agitated. Jaskier raised his eyebrows, but Geralt wasn’t finished. “These songs were composed with a purpose in mind, and expressly meant to be sung in groups. There are various melodic lines, and it’s difficult to say what the magic will choose to do, if only one was sung.”

“But I don’t want you to _sing_ them! Just teach them to me!”

“No, gods, Jaskier, no. Stop asking!” Geralt roared, standing up and walking a few steps into the water. His breathing was wild, but Jaskier knew him well enough to tell he was trying to control himself. He turned around after a moment, expression torn. “I’ll teach you the ones without magic, alright? I won’t put you in danger by teaching you a magic song, of all things. You’ll find a way to make it work, human or not…”

“You’re not putting me in danger!” Jaskier rebuked. He stood up as well, following Geralt. The Witcher extended a hand to help him balance as the water reached their calves.

“How many times have I…?”

“None! I follow you out of my own volition, you’re not putting me in danger, Geralt! We’ve definitely already had this argument.”

“You rely too much on me to keep you out of trouble,” Geralt murmured gently. “So let me keep you out of trouble this time too. I shouldn’t have told you about the songs.”

“And you never let me help enough!” Jaskier threw back. “You promised! When we talked, last time, you promised you’d let me help more!”

“And haven’t I?”

“Yes! And it’s great!”

“Then why are you mad?”

“Because like this, I could _really_ help! I may not be a Witcher, but I…”

“You can’t sing with magic, Jaskier…”

“Well, you clearly don’t think the same, since you’re trying so hard to stop me from trying.”

“I don’t think _you_ could sing them,” Geralt huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Then?”

“I think you would get _me_ to sing them at some point, like you do with anything else, and I don’t want to risk it.”

He said it so casually, Jaskier thought, amazed. He managed not to choke, but he couldn’t help the double take he did as he managed to comprehend the words. Geralt raised an eyebrow, but Jaskier didn’t really have a response. His heart was beating a tad too fast for what was appropriate, and he knew full well that the Witcher could hear it. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, though. The idea of getting Geralt to do anything Jaskier wanted was… well, wasn’t it just…

He was fairly sure his face was bright red, judging by Geralt’s exasperated sigh. He pulled on Jaskier’s wrist to guide him back toward the shore, where they’d left their boots.

“Let’s go back before you start overthinking,” he said. Jaskier followed, hesitantly. As soon as they stepped on the damp grass, he turned his hand on Geralt’s grip to tug at his sleeve and pull him back a little.

“Can you hum one for me, then? I swear I won’t ask for the lyrics,” he added quickly. “I won’t even ask Vesemir for the book, or the other songs. But… will you? Hum for me?”

He knew Geralt would hesitate, and he was prepared for it. He’d never given any indication that he wanted to sing for Jaskier, but he must have known better than to think Jaskier would let it pass without asking. Singing was his livelihood, and Geralt was… Well. A life companion, if nothing else. They’d spent so long together… Jaskier didn’t know if he’d ever have this chance again, and he had never been one to let opportunities pass him by without at least trying. He waited, staring at the Witcher for as long as it took, unwilling to be the one to break the eye contact first. He was more than used to the strange way his eyes worked, and he’d dare say he found it comforting, by now. He knew Geralt was focusing on him by the way the tiny pupils contracted.

Geralt didn’t answer for a long time, so long in fact that Jaskier almost let him off the hook out of exasperation, or perhaps just pity. When he did answer, however, it still wasn’t with a song.

“See?” he murmured. “This is why I shouldn’t tell you this kind of thing. One way or another, you’ll find a way to make me do something I shouldn’t.”

“Well, it’s still you doing it,” Jaskier mumbled, echoes of an argument long forgiven coming back to haunt them. “But if it’s that big of a deal, don’t let me be the one shoveling this particular bunch of shit onto your pile, Geralt, sheesh.”

“Don’t put on airs, Jaskier, it doesn’t suit you. You want to hear the songs, and I did bring them up on my own,” Geralt tilted his head and smiled, gently, for once.

“Then?”

“Will you play?” Geralt sighed, pointing at Jaskier’s lute, hanging on his back. “I can carry a tune but…”

“Start, I’ll follow,” Jaskier agreed immediately, swinging his lute to his front and setting his fingers on it.

He hadn’t heard the song before, and he doubted Geralt would be able to tell him anything about it if he asked, so he’d have to hear a verse or two. Geralt nodded, and sighed once more, but he was clearly trying to think. He sat down to brush blades of grass off his feet, putting on his socks and shoes again. Jaskier waited, aware of the fragility of this moment.

He’d heard Geralt’s singing voice only once, and even then, once he’d been spotted, it had stopped so quickly that he’d wondered if he’d dreamed it. He hadn’t, obviously, as Geralt had all but abandoned him that day. Jaskier wasn’t even sure that it had been an overreaction — at the time, he would have pestered the Witcher endlessly about it.

This silence lasted almost as much as the previous one, but eventually, once he’d finished putting on his shoes and couldn’t delay it any longer, Geralt picked a note and started to hum. He kept his lips tightly closed, so much so that Jaskier had no option but to walk closer. Geralt stood up, avoiding his eyes, but he didn’t stop singing.

The tune was hauntingly beautiful, of that Jaskier had no doubt, and he had to bite his tongue before he gave in to the temptation of asking for the lyrics as well. He couldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. Geralt didn’t want him to.

It came out quiet, but the deep, rich notes of Geralt’s bass voice were enough to make it shine regardless. It didn’t _do_ anything, but when he was close enough, Jaskier could tell Geralt had been telling the truth. His voice was… hypnotic. And not just because Jaskier was a hopeless romantic, but rather, because the tune had… something different. It was calling out to him, calling out to something else, it had a presence, and a will, and it would not be refused.

Not that Jaskier wanted to refuse it, really. He had a lute in his hands, and he was starting to see where the song was going almost before Geralt sang the next line. But he took a moment to appreciate it before starting to play. Geralt wasn’t looking at him still. He wasn’t exactly blushing, but judging by his hesitance, this wasn’t something that might happen again easily. Jaskier swallowed. He was close enough that the vibration of Geralt’s voice reverberated within his own chest, making him want to join in almost to the point of pain. He wanted to sing along. He needed to…

He couldn’t, though. He didn’t know how the song went, and even then, Geralt might grow even more embarrassed. Jaskier took a deep breath, heart quickening its pace once more. It had been a while since he’d been truly nervous about playing music for someone, but this, with Geralt… It felt different. Before he could give in to the temptation of splaying his palm over Geralt’s chest, or worse, his throat, to feel the music there, Jaskier set his fingers to his lute with more intention, willing them to stop shaking. He hit the right chord almost without looking, without thinking. He had a very good ear, but harmonizing a completely new song wasn’t easy. This song, though, this song wanted him in on its secrets. It seemed like Geralt wasn’t oblivious to this, as he looked up, eyes locking with Jaskier’s. He stopped to breathe, but Jaskier didn’t stop playing, and he eventually joined in again, his hum louder this time, until it was almost the only thing Jaskier could hear, the only thing he could focus on.

It took him a few seconds to realize that this was mostly due to the fact that a thick fog had enveloped them all of a sudden. He gasped, breaking the magic of the tune, and Geralt’s eyes widened. He clasped his hand across the lute’s strings, suffocating the sound at once, startling Jaskier further.

“I knew this would be a terrible idea,” he groaned.

“You said you could hum!”

“I… normally, I can. I swear. I’ve hummed this song a million times, it’s never…”

“Well, _I’m_ not doing anything!”

“You’re not singing…” Geralt shook his head slowly, looking around them. The fog was far too thick to see, but the more they talked, the more it dissipated. “It’ll go away the more noise we make. We should…”

“Wait. Tell me why it worked, Geralt,” Jaskier urged him, holding him back by the sleeve before he could go around… yelling at the fog, or whatever he was planning to do.

“I don’t know,” was the answer, gentle, and honest, but unhelpful. “I don’t know, Jaskier. You would know better than me… were you doing something? Feeling different?”

“It was clearly magical, I felt it from the beginning,” Jaskier frowned. “I wasn’t even playing yet and I could feel the chord progression, I knew what it wanted me to play. I could have almost tried to sing with you, if I hadn’t thought you’d stop!”

“Hmm.”

“I’m a skilled lutanist, as you know, but even I would need to hear the song at least once before I start to play,” he went on, already familiar with Geralt’s thoughtful hums.

They stayed in silence for a moment, in which Jaskier finally let go of Geralt’s sleeve, but they didn’t move. Geralt was thinking, clearly, but Jaskier was more and more nervous by the second.

“Geralt?” he called. The Witcher turned to him. “Why fog?” he asked. “What does it do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said the songs were designed to help the Witchers who sang them. So, why fog? How does not seeing shit help you out?”

Geralt snickered, his cat-like eyes dilated to allow him full visibility, even within the suddenly dark swamp and, instead of answering, turned around and walked away.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called again, uneasy.

“I’m right here, Jaskier,” came the steady reply. “I’ve only moved a few steps. I can still see you, you know. I have far better eyesight than you. I can also still smell you, and hear your heartbeat. This is useless for simple enemies, but when you need to hide yourself, it comes in handy. I…” he hesitated, and walked closer until he was within Jaskier’s view again. “I had never seen it work before,” he admitted. “I just like the song.”

“Does it…?” Jaskier started, but then shook his head. “Right, no. Don’t tell me about the lyrics.”

“It doesn’t talk about fog,” Geralt rolled his eyes. “It’s a peaceful song. Talks about…” he hesitated. “Well. About solitude, I think, but translating Elder is not my forte.”

“Right.”

“It doesn’t matter. Play something else, Jaskier. And play it badly, and loudly, because if this fog stays around for too long…”

“What?”

“Eskel and Lambert will notice, for starters.”

“Oh,” Jaskier laughed. “And what, they’ll tattle to good ol’ Vesemir?”

“They’ll worry. I don’t think they’ve ever seen the songs in practice before, either, Jaskier.”

“Oh, right…”

Jaskier wasn’t about to ruin everyone’s day. He picked a song, playing it as distortedly as he could. After a moment, the fog started to dissipate, and Jaskier could see Geralt standing only a few paces away, wincing visibly.

“I dare you to sing to this as badly as you can, see if you feel good doing it,” he muttered. Geralt snorted.

“My singing is already bad, Jaskier. I’ve never been trained as a musician.”

“You’ve spent years by my side!”

“Don’t stop playing. I’m not going to sing for you, I’m not suicidal.”

“This isn’t a Witcher song, you should be able to sing it, right?”

“We don’t know,” Geralt admitted. “And no other Witchers who sang remain alive to ask them. We’ve stuck with not singing at all, so far.”

“What a specific form of torture,” he mused, but he could understand why. If simply humming a tune could have this effect on the weather, Jaskier wasn’t sure what the songs could do if they weren’t under proper magical control. “What about…?” he started, but then stopped himself, plucking a chord a tad too forcefully. Geralt raised an eyebrow, and Jaskier continued, unsure whether it was a good moment to bring this up, but feeling like it was worth asking anyway. “What about Yennefer? Would she know?”

“I don’t think mages know about it anymore, either, but it’s worth a try, perhaps,” he conceded. “Still. With only two Witchers who can do it, seems unnecessary. Texts talk of groups as little as five being relatively uncommon, but never less than three, and even then that’s very rare.”

“So…”

“Even if we pooled the entire school of the Wolf, we wouldn’t have enough people,” Geralt continued, looking aside. “You already know us all, except for Vesemir, so…”

Jaskier didn’t know how to answer that. He knew the different schools of Witchers didn’t work together well, despite having tentative friendships here and there.

“Are you going to tell Eskel and Lambert?” Jaskier asked when the fog became only wisps that pooled low on the ground, closer to the water and the grass than eyesight level. Geralt sighed.

“Probably. I have a theory I want to try,” he admitted. “Preferably now that there’s three of us here, if it came to the worst.”

“Wait, you’re…?”

“I’m not singing, no. And neither is Eskel. I want to see if Lambert can… while you play. It did something this time, and I want to know if it’s you, or if it’s this place in particular, or… or what,” he finished, shrugging. “If… you’re okay with that plan,” he amended after a moment of silence, turning to look at Jaskier, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m okay with that plan if Eskel is also okay with that plan,” Jaskier replied carefully. “Lambert will try anything, and no offense, I don’t trust him not to mess with all of us for his own amusement.”

This drew a laugh from Geralt, who didn’t seem offended in the least. He walked closer, and picked Jaskier’s lute from him, pointing at his shoes with his head.

“Put those on and let’s go find them, before they find us. I don’t know how far the fog went, but I would imagine the townsfolk won’t be amused if we ruin this beautiful day for them.”

Right. No need to give Witchers an even worse reputation than they already had. Jaskier nodded, slipping on his socks and boots quickly, and following Geralt out of the forest, back to the road and civilization.

###

They were welcomed back with a worried frown from Eskel and Lambert, but thankfully, it seemed like no one else had really noticed the change in weather.

“When you said he had a tendency to get into trouble, I didn’t really think you’d manage to prove it on a day as pretty as this,” Lambert told them, in lieu of a greeting. Eskel slapped the back of his head.

“What was that?” he asked instead. His expression seemed severe, accentuated by his scars, but Jaskier was more than used to Witcher language for being worried. He looked at Geralt.

“We’re both safe,” he started, earning a slight smile from the other two. “And as for the rest… I’m not entirely sure. Geralt barely has a theory, as far as I can tell.”

“A theory?” Eskel pressed, turning to Geralt, who pressed his lips into a tight line, thinking.

“You know how I’m only allowed to hum, and you can only whistle, here and there?” he said slowly. Eskel’s frown returned, and this time, even Lambert’s face darkened. “Well, I haven’t been singing, so you can wipe _that_ look off your face,” he added hastily, rolling his eyes. They didn’t seem impressed.

“But you hum all the time, and this has never happened before!” said Lambert. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

“And no more humming for you, I think,” added Eskel. From anyone else, Jaskier would have assumed a dark satisfaction, but Eskel seemed genuinely apologetic. "At least until we figure out what's going on."

"I think it's Jaskier's lute," Geralt sighed, pushing the door to the room fully closed.

They'd picked Geralt and Jaskier's room to talk, and the bard had been in the process of setting down said lute when he said that. It made him jump when three pairs of eyes landed on him.

"Why would his lute...?" started Eskel, but Lambert snapped his fingers.

"Is it true, then? Is it really elven?"

"Yes," Geralt replied. Eskel nodded, slowly, then extended a hand towards Jaskier.

"May I? I won't damage it," he promised. Jaskier smiled feebly as he turned it over to him.

"I would appreciate that."

Eskel simply slid his hands over the wood, however. He didn't pluck the strings, which made Jaskier wonder if it'd have the same effect, instead assessing the weight of the instrument, and bringing it closer to inspect it. They all waited.

"I can't say it's a magical object," he ended up saying, slowly. "It's a beautiful instrument, it's clearly well maintained and cared for, but if it has any magical properties, I have to assume they're meant to help it have a longer lifespan, much like most objects crafted by elves."

"Hmm."

"But he made it work, and Geralt says he was only humming," Lambert mused. "It must have something..."

"What about resonance?" Geralt asked. They all looked at him.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask if the swords give him a different personality?" Jaskier said, earning a snort from the other two Witchers. "He's been saying all manner of words today. What was it... idyllic? And mercurial?"

"And now resonance? Geralt, two decades next to a poet are finally paying off," Lambert teased, and Eskel shook his head, a smile grazing his lips.

"Fuck you all."

"I think he has a point, though," Eskel conceded. "The lute has a natural resonance; it _is_ meant to be an instrument. It wouldn't reflect normal magic, but perhaps singing, since it's also a sound..."

"That would make sense." Jaskier murmured. Eskel nodded at him.

“Do you think Lambert would be able to…?” started Geralt. He was asking Eskel, it seemed, but Lambert interrupted him with a laugh.

“My singing sucks as is.”

“Well, he is able to cast signs, so it’s not a matter of magic power,” Eskel replied, ignoring him. Geralt hummed. “But if he can’t start it on his own, I don’t see how Jaskier’s lute would be able to amplify it. Sorry, Lambert,” he added as an afterthought. Lambert shook his head, apparently unbothered by it all.

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoy leaving all the freaky stuff to you two, I can just be the normal guy in this family,” he grinned. The other two rolled their eyes, and Jaskier snorted. Lambert might be many things, but normal wasn’t one of them, of this, Jaskier was sure.

For a moment, they all remained quiet. Then Lambert himself perked up.

"Well! Never mind me, you try it! It's your chance, right? We're all here, Eskel can help I suppose, and Vesemir can't tell us no," he suggested. Eskel glared at him, clearly unamused at being volunteered for this. Geralt shook his head.

"I don't sing. I'm not allowed to, you know this very well."

"But there are so many songs that have no big effects!"

"I don't know most songs," Geralt admitted. "I've never sang them, and I don't remember much from that time."

"I know a few, but..."

"Here's a thought," Eskel interrupted them. "There's this one song I do sing, and..."

"You?!" Lambert cut in. "I would have never guessed you'd disobey Vesemir. I thought I was supposed to be the naughty one!"

"Vesemir knows," Eskel growled. "And it's only just this one song. It's... well, it's called Ode to Axii. It allows me to use Axii on a crowd, not just a few people at a time."

"Does it not require more people?" Jaskier inquired. Eskel shrugged.

"I can only imagine what it would do if more people joined in. I've only ever used it in extreme situations, and even then, some people manage to break off the spell. But as opposed to other songs, like the one Geralt sang earlier... hummed, sorry," he corrected himself, before Geralt could also interrupt. "As opposed to that, this one rarely gets out of control in a bad way. If the song is broken for whatever reason, the enchantment stops working. Mind control is... not simple to keep up."

"I understand," Jaskier mused.

"Before you ask," he continued. "Vesemir gave me permission to use this song after I got my scar. Too many people tried to drive me off towns, and I had too many close calls where I wouldn't be able to sustain myself, so... he taught me this one."

No one spoke, but Jaskier knew that no one resented him for it. Eskel himself broke the silence after a moment.

"Anyway, I was wondering if I would be able to use Axii on other Witchers, if Jaskier played the lute along with me. Would you two be okay with that?"

"Sure," Lambert shrugged. "Don't do anything I wouldn't," he added, with a wink. Jaskier snorted at the implications, and Eskel rolled his eyes, but he waited for Geralt's approval as well. He was frowning.

"What will this mean for Jaskier? Axii leaves humans disoriented on the best of days..."

"In theory, since he will be playing, he shouldn't be affected. The people involved in the songs don't get affected. Say, were you cold before? When the fog started?" Eskel asked them. Jaskier shook his head, earning a bright smile. "There you have it. We were all the way here and the temperature drop was noticeable. Most people thought it was just a few clouds, and they went on... but we could tell, from all the way back here. If Jaskier was fine..."

"I trust you," Geralt interrupted. "But I..."

He stopped, looking down at his feet. They all waited, used by now to the way he sometimes needed to find his words. He looked up, between Jaskier and Eskel, finally at Lambert. He sighed.

"Jaskier should decide," he said, receiving encouraging smiles from them all. He continued. "I just think we shouldn't encourage him to use magic. Or even to... echo it, or whatever. I don't think... I just don't think it's a good idea."

"We'll make sure he's safe, Geralt," Eskel murmured. Jaskier bit his lips.

"I won't make you sing, if that's what you're worried about," he added. They all turned to look at him. "When we're off on the Path without them, I mean. I won't make you use this magic, or anything of the sort. I'd love it if you sang non-magicky songs with me, but I won't push it."

"... The decision is yours," Geralt repeated.

He seemed clearly torn, but Jaskier was ecstatic with the trust that came implicit with having approval to do this. He turned to Eskel, nodded.

"I'll do it," he said firmly. Eskel grinned.

"Eager. I can't say I don't get it. I... haven't sang in a very long time. My voice is not perfect, but..."

"It'll be my honor to accompany such a rare performance, then," Jaskier said, and winked. Eskel's grin only grew, enthusiasm starting to overtake his caution.

"I will only sing one verse. That's usually enough to start the spell," he explained. "I'll also try to be quiet... I don't want people in the rest of the inn to hear it."

"Do they have to be within hearing range?" Jaskier wondered. Eskel nodded.

"Usually, yes."

"Right..."

"It's in E minor," Eskel continued, and Jaskier gasped involuntarily, earning himself a chorus of laughter, both from Eskel and Lambert. "Oh, Geralt, how you starve your poor bard..."

"It's not my fault I wasn't taught music," he muttered. Lambert was still snickering.

"I can't say I know much music, either," he admitted. "But that just now was priceless."

Geralt would have replied, or perhaps just sulked, but Jaskier decided to get him off the hook for once. He set his fingers on the strings, and strummed the corresponding chord, startling them all. For a moment, nobody spoke. Eskel's eyes bore on him as he took a deep breath, and Jaskier realized the feeling from before was there again, even before he'd spoken at all. Geralt had said Eskel was better at magic, but...

His voice wasn't quite as low as Geralt's, though they would harmonize perfectly, Jaskier thought. He was singing so quietly that he would have missed the lyrics, if he hadn't been expecting them. His Elder was rusty, very much so, but he did catch a couple of words that were repeated through many religious songs. An ode indeed…

Eskel was the right man to sing this, as well. His calm demeanor gave it the gravitas that it deserved, and if Jaskier hadn’t known better, he would have assumed he had been taught this at some temple. He took a few steps closer to hear better, and Eskel smiled through the words, beckoning him closer still. Jaskier went, and couldn’t help but smile when the Witcher placed his hand on his shoulder, fingers straying down to his hands, not to stop him, but simply to ghost over his fingers, almost as if he could feel the magic there. He repeated the first verse as he finished it, and the spell stuttered slightly, the distortion making Jaskier gasp. Eskel lifted his hand as the calmness returned, to pat Jaskier’s hair and push it away from his face so their eyes could meet again. Geralt took a few steps toward them, but as soon as they both looked up at him, he stopped, perhaps startled. It wasn’t enough to break the spell, the feeling of communication between them, but Eskel dropped his hand, fingertips brushing against Jaskier’s cheek ever so slightly as he pulled himself back a little.

Witcher eyes were similar in shape and color, that much was true, but it wasn’t until that moment that Jaskier realized that they weren’t exactly the same. Eskel’s eyes were slightly smaller, the changes in his pupils less noticeable than Geralt’s. They crinkled on the corners when he smiled, taking in air to sing the last line of the first verse for a second time. Jaskier didn't feel anything, his mind was clear as day, but he did realize that, once more, the music demanded to be heard, demanded to be obeyed. His fingers played the chord progression without prompting, and when Eskel stopped singing, he let the last chord dissolve into silence of its own, not daring to stop it. They didn't look apart from each other for a second, but then Eskel pulled away from his side, and turned toward the other two.

They looked... fine. Unharmed, at the very least. But they were very quiet, and when Eskel moved, they followed him with their eyes, waiting, listening.

"Stand up, please," Eskel asked, and Lambert, the only one who had been sitting, did so. "I know this is very silly, but it's an easy way to check. Stand on your hands."

Lambert didn't scowl, or protest. He merely looked around to make sure he wasn't going to knock into anything, and did as he was told. He didn't seem to find his equilibrium easily, however, and Eskel was quick to tell him to stop. He walked across the room to rub Lambert's wrists gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, along with something Jaskier didn't quite hear. "Geralt? Sit down. You can take this off afterwards," he added.

He combed Geralt's hair back away from his eyes with a soft hand. He asked for a hair band, and when Geralt gave him the one tied around his wrist, he took it to pull his hair into a braid. For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Geralt didn't even flinch when Eskel worked some knots out of his hair with nimble fingers.

"So... I suppose it worked," he said when he was almost done, his voice louder now. He looked at Jaskier. "They should go back to normal soon. The more noise we make, the quicker it'll go away."

Jaskier wasn’t sure how he felt watching the two Witchers so quiet and pliant under Eskel’s control. He winced as he plucked a dissonant chord, but it at least seemed to have the desired effect. It startled Lambert, who shook his head to clear it, and nodded slowly.

"Hey," Eskel greeted him. "How are you feeling?"

"Funny," he admitted. "My wrists are fine, by the way. I just have shit in my pockets and I was trying to keep it there while..."

"Still, I'm sorry," Eskel replied, with a smile. Lambert pat his shoulder.

"What about him?"

"He'll be back soon, too," Eskel promised.

"It's a good thing you're the one with the magic, I'd be telling him to do all kinds of weird shit."

"You're a walking disaster," Eskel chided. Lambert laughed. "Geralt has his own battles to fight, and we can't force him to do anything."

Jaskier plucked the strings again, uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to tell Geralt to do anything he would later regret... It didn't seem to work, though, and for a terrible moment, Jaskier feared they'd done something irreversible to him... At least, until he slumped forward on the chair, a hand coming up slowly to trace his fingers on the braid Eskel had done. He didn't take it off.

"Well, I hated that," he announced. He looked up at Eskel, almost... almost helplessly. "Did you have to do that?"

"Ah, I am sorry about that," he agreed quietly, looking at Jaskier. "It felt... like the music was coming from him instead of me. It was very strange."

"Wait, do what?" Jaskier interrupted, walking closer to check on Geralt. He placed a hand on his shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, but his hand came up to squeeze Jaskier's where it had settled on his arm.

"Remember earlier, when I walked closer?" Eskel offered.

"Hmm, I think you worried Geralt. You did tell him it wouldn't affect me, but you know how he is. A big softie on the inside, really. He worries," Jaskier smiled, squeezing Geralt's hand back. "It was fine. It was the same earlier, remember? Like the music fed off each other, back at the swamp."

"I know," Geralt replied, almost brusquely. "I remember the feeling."

"Bet he didn't like seeing Eskel do that to you," Lambert snickered, and Eskel shot him a look that Jaskier couldn't decipher.

"Well, he worries," Jaskier repeated, unsure. Nobody answered him.

They all looked around their little circle, and whether they were somehow communicating, Jaskier couldn't tell. He waited, though, and eventually Eskel himself stepped away. He tapped on Lambert's arm.

"Let's go get Geralt's swords, anyway, now that the mystery has been solved. I'm sure Geralt is better equipped than us to deal with Jaskier's impending pestering," he added, teasingly. Jaskier laughed.

"I said I wouldn't! Does my word really mean that little to you?" he pretended to be hurt, and Eskel grinned again.

"Geralt has told us a lot about you, bard. So... yes."

"Rude!" he laughed as they left the room.

They weren't entirely wrong. Jaskier had questions, many of them. But he knew better than to start asking right as the door closed behind them. Witcher hearing had been difficult to get used to, but after traveling with Geralt for so long, he'd finally gotten a vague idea of how long to wait before making any noise. Geralt waited with him, not looking him in the eye, but not letting his hand go either.

"Did you...?" he started after a moment, almost startling Jaskier. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Jaskier reassured him. "Are you?"

"Yes," he said, bluntly. For a moment, it didn't seem like he was going to elaborate, but he did, after a beat. "It was... very calm. I haven't had my hair braided in years."

"How many people do you let braid your hair?"

"Only Eskel, really. Lambert pulls on my hair, Vesemir gets flustered if he thinks you're treating him like a father. Emotions aren't..."

"Oh, it's a Witcher thing?"

"I don't think it's the mutations," Geralt sighed, finally dropping Jaskier's hand and standing up. "It's just how we're taught to be. How Vesemir was taught to be."

"That's no way to live," Jaskier mused, and if that bothered Geralt, he didn't show it. He shrugged instead.

"There are so few of us left... It might be time to learn otherwise, or we won't be able to make it through."

To this, Jaskier really had no answer. Geralt had mentioned before that it wasn’t possible to create more Witchers, but then… Unwilling to ask what he truly meant by it, Jaskier turned around, searching for something to do. He took the chair, moving it aside so it wouldn't be in the middle of the room, but he didn't sit down. Geralt was rummaging through his pack, but he seemed mostly deep in thought, rather than looking for something, and Jaskier looked down at his lute, still in his hands. His fingers ghosted over the chords, and he even played the first few, but it didn't sound the same, but it didn't feel anything like it had before. Geralt tilted his head, and hummed a single note. It wasn't enough, but it still sent a shiver down Jaskier's spine, his breath catching in his throat.

"Geralt?" he asked after a moment. The Witcher stopped fiddling with his potion bottles and turned to look at him from where he was sitting on the floor. "Why does it feel this way? You know, the magic."

"It's magic, Jaskier. It's... a continuum."

"If I didn't want to know more, I'd tease you for using yet more big words today," Jaskier admitted, when Geralt didn't explain further. He walked closer, kneeling in front of him. "But do go on."

"Magic has to come from somewhere,” Geralt indulged him, rolling his eyes at the jab. “Not everyone can harness it, and to be able to do it, one must pay a price. Mages are sterile, so are Witchers... Elves aren't, but then, they aren't human."

"Alright."

"There are many humans who can vaguely manipulate chaos, the Sources, but not many that become full-fledged mages," he explained. "But for them, magic is a continuum. They can use other living beings, or other objects, as offerings to extract chaos from, instead of themselves."

"So... it's like a circle of living things and magic?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"Then... Why does it feel that way for us? I'm not using magic, not really."

"No. But you're amplifying it, so in a sense, I'm surprised it isn't hurting you. I guess your lute protects you from side effects."

"Does it always feel like that for you, when you use signs?"

"No," Geralt said quickly, a smile curling the corner of his lips. "No, it doesn't. But my signs are more like a brief blast of magic, not the slow weaving of magic into song, so I don't think it compares."

"It feels like..." Jaskier frowned, looking for words. "Like it surrounded us, yeah? Like it was alive?"

"For Sources, magic is not something they possess," Geralt murmured, ignoring Jaskier. "For mages, or Witchers, it's different. It's... simpler, in a sense. It's there, for us to take and mold. It felt like this time I wasn't the full mold. And if I let go too quickly, if I broke the song... I would lose the other half."

This gave Jaskier pause. He blinked, feeling his cheeks redden rapidly. Geralt waited, his eyes carefully guarded as he watched Jaskier assimilate his words.

"It..." Jaskier began, wetting his lips when he found them dry. He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I could..."

"It would make sense if it felt different for you," Geralt interrupted him. "You weren't wielding the magic."

"I did feel like I didn't want to break the spell, too," he defended himself. "I felt _something_ , just..." He trailed off, unsure for once of how to put it into words. "It felt warm," he settled for. "Warm. Like... like we were close, yeah? Like we were building something."

"Yes," Geralt accepted, a small smile on his face. "Like we were building something."

He moved then, as if to stand up, and Jaskier lurched forward to stop him, grabbing at his sleeve. Geralt looked back at him, startled, and let himself be led back into sitting on the floor. Jaskier was still kneeling, but he didn't sit back just yet. There was one more thing, and Geralt was using words for once, so he... he had to ask.

"What are Eskel and Lambert scheming? I'm not that dumb, they're trying to get you to do or say something, and the sooner we get this over with, the better."

"It's nothing," Geralt groaned, moving to stand up again, this time ignoring Jaskier's fingers grabbing at him. He dislodged them easily, moving to his feet and sitting on one of the beds instead. "They're being assholes, it's not that odd. We prank each other all the time."

"And I bet that's hilarious, and don't think I'll forget about it, but I must insist." Jaskier stood up as well, crossing his arms. "They're been giving me little looks ever since we met yesterday, and I thought they might be just making sure I'm worthy or something, but it's starting to be really weird, and they keep saying all these things... So come on. Out with it. Have I done something to offend them, or are they making fun of me, or...?"

"No," Geralt sighed. "No, they're making fun of me, that's all."

"Why?"

"It's _nothing_."

"Geralt."

"Jaskier."

"I will punch you," he warned. It earned a chuckle, and Geralt shook his head, the plait at his neck swishing with the movement.

"I promised them I would straighten things with you after that argument we had... they're trying to figure out if I apologized properly."

"But you did," Jaskier said softly. "I could have just told them, if they'd asked... I'm sorry that they're still giving you grief about it, Geralt."

Geralt's shoulders seemed to loosen at that, and he nearly chuckled. He didn't answer for a moment, instead looking up to finally meet Jaskier's eyes. He didn't move from the bed, though.

"It's..." he started, tentatively, and Jaskier huffed.

"Nothing, yes, yes... I know. Big bad Witcher, nothing bothers you, nerves of steel, a facade so imposing no one shall ever guess that things can bother you, or that you have feelings, or, Melitele forbid, that you may have..."

"Feelings for you?"

He said it off-hand, like it was a given. It took Jaskier a moment longer than he would have liked to admit to get it, really, and he turned on the spot, blinking owlishly and probably looking rather stupid at that. Geralt was looking at him, tentative, like he wasn’t sure how it was going to be received.

"I was going to say a sense of humor," Jaskier said, voice thin and threatening to break. "But that's a bit cruel even for you."

"My sense of humor is terrible on the best of days. I try not to joke," Geralt said, rolling his eyes. "Do you think Eskel would let me prank you like that? Give him some credit, I know I don't deserve it, but he's better than that."

"...Wait. What?"

"I know it's..."

"You mean it?"

"I..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but he was still looking Jaskier in the eye, and he squared his shoulders before he nodded decisively, making his point very clear. Jaskier's vision swam, and he took a few tentative steps toward him.

"Wha... Since when?" he settled for, first. Geralt shrugged.

"Not entirely sure, to be honest."

"Why?!"

"I ask myself that question every morning," he replied, and this time, he _was_ laughing. Jaskier slapped his arm, and it earned him a boyish, cheeky grin. "Easy, bard. I don't know why. I wish I had pretty words for you, but I don't do that very well."

"You've been saying all manner of words today!"

"I guess I ran out," he settled, before continuing. "But I know I mean it, and I know it's true. And I know I could have said something so long ago, and I didn't. And... I'm sorry."

"Is this the apology Eskel and Lambert were waiting for?"

"Yes... Mostly."

"Hmm."

"Jaskier?"

"Y-yes?"

"I'm sorry if I've said it too late," he added. "But... I think it's better if I say it late, than never at all. You've always insisted that you knew what you meant to me even if I didn't say it, but... Well. You're important to me. Like a friend, but also... well. More than that. And I'm sorry."

"For liking me more than a friend?" Jaskier asked, incredulity coloring his voice and making it sound high pitched, and anxious. "Why?"

"I'm a Witcher, Jaskier, I know it’s not..."

"Have I ever given you any indication that it bothers me?!"

"You're... an odd human," Geralt admitted, finally looking aside. His fingers tightened around the fabric of the bed covers. "Still, I don't expect..."

"Oh, Melitele, you're _so_ stupidly good, it's ridiculous."

It clearly threw him for a loop, and he looked up with a frown, but Jaskier was quick to scramble to his feet and close the distance between them, placing his hands on Geralt's shoulders to force him to look at him.

"I've loved you for years, you dumb Witcher. For decades, even. I've told you in as many ways as I can think of, perhaps save for the only one that I knew would make you uncomfortable, but I suppose that got us nowhere, huh?"

"I'm not as dumb as you think," he protested. "I knew... or I guessed. I've known you found me attractive pretty much since we first met."

"Yes, freaky sense of smell. Honestly, if you knew...?"

"Well, it rather complicates things. And I don't fuck friends."

"But you just said you like me more than a friend," Jaskier argued. Geralt grinned.

"Hmm, I did, didn't I."

"Oh gods, you're such a good, dumb idiot," he sighed, but he didn't mean it.

He leaned in, close enough for their noses to brush together, and waited. He had been waiting for years, and he knew this was a step he couldn’t take on his own. For a moment, they looked at each other in silence. It made Jaskier wonder how Geralt was seeing him, all up close and in his space. They were things he’d thought of before, whenever they’d shared a bedroll, but they came back to haunt him again. How did he smell? What did his heartbeat sound like? Could he tell his breathing was shallow with anticipation, could he smell the utter _want_ that coursed through him? He was almost trembling with the idea, fingers tight around the fabric of Geralt’s shirt, trying his best not to lean closer, press their lips together after years of fantasizing… He was so caught up with it, that he didn’t realize that Geralt had raised a hand to touch his cheek. It startled him, somewhat, but it only made the Witcher smile. His breath hit Jaskier’s lips, warm, and so close, almost _there_...

Jaskier wasn’t above begging, at this point. Thankfully, it seemed that he wouldn’t have to. After another beat, Geralt slid his hand further up into Jaskier’s hair, pulling at his nape to get him even closer, and leaning up to close the distance. They kissed, slowly at first, tentative, exploring, finding their rhythm. But it didn’t take them long to find it, and soon Jaskier was all but climbing into Geralt’s lap, sighing when his hands left his hair to support his back, his hips.

Right then and there, surrounded by the soft sounds of one another, that was like feeling magic between them all over again.

###

Lambert and Eskel didn't come back to the room for hours, and when Jaskier regained the ability to think coherently, he realized they probably could hear and smell them a mile away.

Well, that was just as fine. They wouldn't have appreciated an interruption.

They met again when they went downstairs for dinner. Jaskier was carrying his lute, ready to play for their meals once more, and Geralt seemed fully determined to recover his swords once and for all. Thankfully, by the time they found the other two Witchers, the weapons were easily returned. Lambert grinned teasingly, and even Eskel threw Jaskier a wink when Geralt wasn't looking, but they were nice enough not to bring it up... or at least, not that Jaskier could hear. He did leave to perform, however, and it wasn't difficult to tell that Geralt was getting more and more flustered by the minute. And that just wouldn't do.

He picked one of his most famous songs, a catchy tune with a really repetitive rhyme pattern, very popular, that always got people joining in. He would often walk up to one or two people in the audience to entice them to join first. Sometimes with a dance, if they were quiet, sometimes with singing, if they were so inclined. His subject for the night was probably not inclined, but he was anything but quiet, so Jaskier felt pretty confident as he walked toward the table and sang at Lambert until Geralt kicked him so he would follow Jaskier. With a grumble, Lambert did join in and, eventually, so did the rest of the inn. Geralt and Eskel didn't, but Jaskier didn't mind. He'd get to hear them again, eventually, of that he was sure.

The place all but exploded after that, everyone laughing and teasing the Witcher, but generally keeping an air of camaraderie. They even bought him an ale for his bravery in singing with the bard, and at some point someone got out a deck of cards and pulled Eskel and Geralt into a few rounds of gwent. Next thing Jaskier knew was that his pants were full of coin from tips, he was slightly drunk on the shitty ale they kept buying him, and Geralt was _laughing_ at Eskel's cards, leaning over his shoulders to watch his brothers play.

It felt magical, like this, too. Like they were building something, all together.

Jaskier struck a few chords, tested a few rhymes in his head. He'd have time to perfect it, but for now, he liked the way it sounded. Like new friendships, and acceptance, and teasing banter, and family, and love. Old love, and new love, and so many kinds in between.

Geralt turned around at the sound of an unfamiliar song, and smiled.

"Composing? Now?" he inquired, extending a hand to pull Jaskier closer. He let himself be led.

"Hmm, just trying a few things."

"It sounds great," he assured him. Perhaps he was also slightly drunk, or perhaps he just felt as free as Jaskier did. He leaned sideways into Geralt's arm, fingers not quite ready to leave the lute strings.

"I'm going to compose you the sweetest of songs," he promised. "Something you can sing, because it won't be in Elder," he added as an afterthought. Geralt laughed.

"Keep dreaming, bard."

"I think I shall. Dreams do come true sometimes, after all."

Geralt didn't answer, but he smiled, letting Jaskier continue composing, and trying rhymes mentally. He knew the Witcher well enough at this point to know what that meant.

He'd sing it. Perhaps it would be just for Jaskier, perhaps he'd wait until Jaskier himself was asleep, but he'd sing it.

And that was enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my story :D
> 
> If you did, please consider leaving kudos or a comment, they're greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you’d like to create related content based on my fic, please visit my profile for my blanket permission statement!
> 
> If you want to yell with me and share more headcanons for these dorks, you can find me at my tumblr, [lenalawlipop](https://lenalawlipop.tumblr.com/), the comments section down below, or any of the links in my profile. Don't be shy!
> 
> Love,
> 
> ~Lena


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